Imagine Tales

The creature appeared from behind the statue, pulling itself across the woodland floor on its front, the snapping of small twigs and the rustling of leaves accompanying a malignant deep and dank dragging sound. Occasional slopping of fleshy tentacles against the floor drummed a morbid beat as the thing dragged itself towards me. I was frozen to the spot with what I assumed at first was fear, but it was fascination, as I looked at the black entity with all its tentacle limbs and, from what I could see, useless legs, its body engorged and too heavy for such frail limbs. The fear soon set in, however, but I still could not stop looking at the creature. From the corner of my eye I saw something move, and I finally ripped my gaze from the horror before me only to find something much worse. Leaning against the stone was a mutilated body of a young child, a boy. Even though bone and muscle was exposed across his ribcage and entrails spilled out, he still moved. His arm with exposed bone was raised towards me. His face was mostly missing, his single lip beneath a collapsed nose was uttering words, words I could not hear or understand. But two words rang through my mind again and again.

“Help us…”

I tore my sight from the view of this dying child only to see his sister, for now I knew these were the children who went missing all those years ago. Too many years for them to be still young and if like this all that time, still alive. The little girl was curled up in her brother’s arms as if in some last attempt to protect herself from the horror. Her back and legs were stripped bare of flesh and muscle, her feet missing, stumps grinding against the dirt as her legs twitched, no longer under her control. I looked back at the monster that still crawled towards me, it was barely a few feet away now. It raised some of its upper tentacles, exposing a dark orifice, surrounded by teeth, rows of teeth, each small but razor sharp. I could smell the fetid breath of the creature as I stood over it, a wave of nausea hit me and I fell backwards, my balance ruined by the overwhelming stench of decay and death. A root completed the motion and I found myself hitting the floor and the breath knocked from me. I gasped for air and it took a moment for me to regain my senses. I was alone. The horror had gone, as had the disturbing sight of the children.

The statue still glowed with eerie strength in the night, its luminance falling short of me. I turned on all fours to pick myself up and suddenly, as my head passed into the unnatural light, the creature that should not be upon this earth leapt at me, its tentacles reaching out towards my face. I raised my arm to shield my head as I heard an unearthly scream being released from my own throat. A wet, heavy and sluggish tentacle landed on my bare skin. I screamed again, this time in pain as the fluids burned into my skin and I could smell my own flesh beginning to dissolve. I pulled back from the appendage and the light, as the monster tried to reach for me once more before fading into nothing. As I looked over at the statue, the children faded also. I don’t know how long I sat there, could have been hours, minutes, or just a few seconds. It was enough for the events of this evening to play over and over again in my mind. The glow from the statue I dared not go near showing me another place, not of man’s domain, but only a light particle away. I ran home, stumbling into bushes, trees and shallow holes. I reached the wall with a breath of relief and stormed through the gate, slamming it shut. I slowed now, catching my breath and began my way back to the house, the thorns of rose bushes bothering me little. I did not sleep that night or for many nights to come.

I returned to London the following day, exhausted but needing to be away from that place. My arm healed over the following weeks, but left scaring of a strange nature and it still stings after bad dreams, even now. I only returned to the house to board it up, staying at the pub overnight. The locals could see in my eyes that I had seen something in those woods, but I never told anyone. They still talked of strange things in the woods, supernatural, hauntings and curses, but I could not enjoy those tales like I once did, now that I know what is in those woods, what is in the light. I never sold the estate, I just let it drift into a forgotten realm of my life. I will not take my family there, I will not let them inherit it, I will not sell to another unfortunate soul. Whilst I am alive, I shall leave it well alone and after my death, it will be in the hands of the lawyers.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The figure stood tall, the tip of its fedora hat only just missing the moist ceiling as it approached the bath. It moved without step, gliding with an unnerving slithering across the black and white chequered floor, its legs hidden by the long, heavily stained trench coat. The collar of the coat was pulled up, hiding the visitor’s facial features, all that showed were the eyes, black and abyss-like. They reflected the image of Darren, his naked scrawny body partly submerged in the bath water. As the figure moved closer towards Darren’s still body, the reflection that viewed like a movie in an empty movie theatre pulled in closer to Darren’s upper torso and his head. As Darren’s eyes came into focus, his dilated pupils moved to look directly at the intruder that now stood over him. The waterfall that his drugged mind had perceived shrank suddenly, dragging Darren back to the surface, back to his reality.

Darren’s brain screamed inside his skull, but that was as far as the scream got. His senses exploded with repulsion, the smell wanted to make him vomit, the sickly presence that invaded his personal space made his skin crawl. But he could not react, no muscle operated, no limb moved and no sound came out. Only his eyes could move and all he could see was the horror that stood over him. As he laid in the now suddenly cold bath, naked and prone, all he could do was stare at the figure above him. His internal dialogue begging for his life, knowing it made no difference as whatever stood over him could not hear his pleas. The figure just stood and stared at the pitiful man below him and did not move. Under the trench coat, things slithered and moved, making strange bulges across the visitor’s chest and back. Darren’s mind tried to reason with itself, the rational part saying that his enemies had finally found him and his life would end soon, very soon. But then the part of his mind that told him to fear the dark screamed out at him and took control. This was not human, not even earthly, this was his demon that had come for him. His deeds, his sins were now to be accounted for. He had destroyed his life and all those who had given a damn about him. Through his addiction he had condemned himself, not just to death, to Hell. The drugs… “Wait” his thoughts told him, It’s a hallucination, just a hallucination. His face twitched into a manic smile with the realisation. In the maelstrom of his mind, Darren suddenly felt like he had hit the eye of a storm and peace descended over him. His thoughts moved with ease and took only moments for long thoughts to process. His suddenly clear head analysed the figure above him, he could see it now, his mind understood the horror that affronted him with a sense of calm. Even though his mind took in and understood the horror, his thoughts acted like he was casually sight-seeing. Slowly the figure raised an arm over Darren, extending gangling fingers. As the figure moved the collars of trench coat fell away revealing the face that was hidden beneath. Darren screamed.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5